


Firestorm

by DiAnima



Category: Runescape (Video Games)
Genre: But am I sorry?, Freneskae shenanigans, Gen, I may regret this, Mahjarrat, babjarrat, deep deep headcanon territory, help i made an oc, not in the slightest, time to break away from canon with no regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-19 16:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiAnima/pseuds/DiAnima
Summary: [Edited and reposted from previous account]





	Firestorm

**Author's Note:**

> [Edited and reposted from previous account]

The earth, at last, ceased to move.

A woman stood alone on a ragged mountain peak. The abrupt lack of movement took her by surprise. She paused, wobbled, and dropped down to one knee, panting for breath. The roaring still rang in her ears. It faded, slowly, replaced by the hiss of the ash in the wind and the distant rumble of thunder.

After the intense rush of energy of the ritual, she felt bitterly cold. A few shudders ran through her. Her arms and shoulders were raw, scored with dozens of claw marks, and the taste of her own blood was in her mouth, but she was alive.

Tarianna got unsteadily to her feet. She allowed herself to take a few more deep breaths of the gritty, tepid air before gathering herself. Whatever it meant, whatever consequences awaited her, the ritual was done. Now she was alone and far too far from the camp, alone with the infinitely precious new life she had forged on the marker, forged from the dying energy of the men she had killed when the earth began to move.

Her first son.

Tarianna pulled herself together, tucked her newborn son into a makeshift sling she conjured across her chest, and turned away from the marker. Two flashes of colour against the ground caught her eye. After a moment's thought, she bent to collect them. Two gems, one green, one red. She clutched them in her fist, took one final steadying breath, and began the treacherous trek home.

It was a long and painful journey. She had never had to return from the marker alone before. She had had Temekel, when they were younger, before the hardships of leading the pack changed him beyond her liking; then she had had Roshkunn, clever and quick until the Muspah dragged him to the void. She had not intended to visit the marker again after he had died. Five daughters were enough, she thought.

Apparently, some of the others had different ideas.

 _Clever of them to work together against me_ , she thought as she picked her way down a scree-slope. _Perhaps they thought they would be strong enough to overpower me. How wrong, how wrong, how foolish of them._

The void had welcomed their screams.

The lava falls, as always, were the worst part. Muspah gathered here in their dozens. Tarianna was forced into the shadow realm to pass them. It was taxing and frightening, but not as much as a fight would be. She had to survive this journey. She had to protect her son.

Her brethren saw her before she saw the camp; a pair of barked alarm calls heralded her arrival. She called back. Nobody replied. She kept walking, steady and determined despite her weakness, footsteps crunching in the black sand. She couldn’t afford to fail now. Not so close to victory.

Nobody stopped her from walking through the protective barriers surrounding the camp. Once she was past them, she stood a little straighter. Her steps fell less softly. The first one of her own kind she encountered - one of the younger guards, who sidled up to her with a warning growl - she rounded on without a sound and sent him scurrying away with one swipe of her claws.

The camp was busy, but everyone paused in their errands and stared at her as she walked past. She heard their whispers behind her back and didn’t turn. Before long she was joined by two other women, her eldest daughters, grown and with children of their own now. They looked at the state of her and said nothing. They flanked her as she walked for the center of the camp, and Tarianna felt a little stronger for their protection.

She could feel that most of the staring was directed at the baby. She cupped her son’s head in her palm instinctively.

It had become something of a jest in some circles to say that if Tarianna was to have a son, then he would be the one to put Temekel’s boy, the one he was grooming for leadership, on the marker. Tarianna thought that Temekel’s boy ought to watch his back around any of her children - she knew the strength of her daughters better than anyone. Why should the threat to him have to be a son?

It had always been said in jest. Said quietly, yes, but never seriously. Perhaps it was meant as an insult – _none of Tarianna’s children will lead_. She wondered how many of them would be laughing now.

In the very center of the camp, near the lightning spire, she stopped walking. Temekel was there, with all his cronies, his boy Azzanadra at his side. They fell silent as she approached. A surprised silence.

She let them watch her for a few moments, and then she threw the gems she held clenched in her fist down at Temekel’s feet. Green and red. Little drops of vivid colour against the grey ash. Proof, if they needed it, of the destruction of her enemies. 

“Let it be heard,” said Tarianna. Her voice was brittle but sharp at the edges. “Let it be known, that _any_ who dare try to force me will face the void. Screaming.”

Temekel said nothing. He raised his gaze from the gems on the ground and watched her with his black eyes. Tarianna’s eldest two daughters were children of his. They carried his obsidian markings and Tarianna could feel them growling as their father watched her. She didn’t look away. Eventually he glanced at the child, her son, and his eyes narrowed. She waited.

He huffed and turned away. An acknowledgement, if only small, of her victory.

“His name is Zamorak,” said Tarianna. _I name him Firestorm_. Her words drew a murmur of surprise from those watching - it was unlucky to name a child before it could run. She hadn’t even seen the colour of his gems, but, as with her daughters, she knew his name already. The Great Mother had given Tarianna the gift of foresight, so she knew things like this before they came to pass.

Temekel didn’t respond; he remained standing with his back to her, but she saw how his fists where clenched. He had known what the plan had been, Tarianna could see that plainly – he had known that two of the younger males wanted to overpower her. He had known, and he hadn’t expected her to survive.

 _He forgets who I am, it seems_. _I ought to remind him once I have my strength back_.

She turned away from the centre of the camp and, once more flanked by her daughters, her honour guard, she made her way back to her tent. Her son stirred and called out quietly as she walked. She stroked the top of his head and rumbled deep in her chest to soothe him. He had red gems, she saw; not one or two, but a row of them, arrayed across his brow.

Her foresight came to her again as she ran a thumb across the largest gem, the one set between his eyes; she heard him roar, and saw him standing tall and strong and proud, a great power in his hands. She smiled.

She had always known her family would inherit her world eventually. Here, at last, was the final proof.


End file.
